


missed calls, missing you

by starryeyedchar



Series: The Meaning of Hyacinths (Roy Mustang Can't Catch A Break AU) [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Roy Mustang, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Maes Hughes Lives, Major Character Injury, Please Don't Kill Me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 12:28:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19928080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryeyedchar/pseuds/starryeyedchar
Summary: Roy turned slowly, still keeping one hand clutching the receiver as the operator— who seemed less than aware of his dire situation —informed him that the call would be connected shortly.“Hang up the phone, sir,” said a familiar, frustrated voice from behind him. “I knew you used this phone booth to talk to your dates, but it's getting a tad ridiculous.”He recognized the voice after a moment as belonging to Second Lieutenant Maria Ross, and for a moment he was relieved— until he actually saw her.“You're not Maria Ross,” he observed bluntly, and he didn't miss the shadow that passed over the imposter's face. “Maria Ross has a mole under her left eye. And she wouldn't be stupid enough to point a gun at me. Unfortunately for you, you are.”Or the one where Maes Hughes does not die in a phone booth. Someone else does.





	missed calls, missing you

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there you go! Much less of a wait for this work, because I was especially excited for it. It's the major thing that makes it an AU, because everything that follows is changed by it.
> 
> Some of you guessed what was going happen, and to you I say congrats for picking up what I was putting down. Your combined reactions of fear and excitement made me want to write this one fast. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> And to those of you had no idea this was coming... I'm sorry.

Maes Hughes sat down for dinner with his family, perfectly content. It had been an absolutely wonderful day.

Roy had arrived back in Central, and it was always good to see him. Additionally, though Maes had not expected it, Roy had agreed to stay in their guest room for a couple of days, since he didn't have an apartment in Central due to the fact he hadn't actually started working there yet, and he'd be coming to their house as soon as he was satisfied with his research for the day. Maes had offered to stay behind and help, but Roy had insisted he could do it on his own.

That morning, Elicia had requested that Maes come home early, and for the first time since the whole mess with Scar started, he had been able to do just that. He'd have to thank Roy for it, once his best friend actually stopped working himself.

It made Maes laugh just to think of it. The fact that _Roy_ had the audacity to tell anyone they were overworking themselves when he always did so.

Regardless, Maes was just glad to have some quality time with his wife and daughter.

“Everything smells amazing,” he said with a grin. “You've outdone yourself once again.”

Gracia smiled back. “You always say that.”

“Well, it's always true.”

“Thank you,” Gracia replied, with a fond roll of her eyes. “Though I'm afraid I made too much. Didn't you say Roy was going to be having dinner with us? Where is he?”

“Ah, he's staying a bit late. Still researching for the Elrics. He seemed like he was actually making some progress when I checked in before heading home, so he might be a while. Getting Roy to stop working once he's in the zone is impossible,” Maes told her. “But all the things he brought with him are already in the guest room, so he'll be here eventually.”

“I'll have to heat up some of this food for him again,” Gracia mused. “There's too much for just the three of us, though I thought having dinner so late would mean even _he'd_ show up. I even baked some of that quiche you two love so much for dessert.”

“Is that—?”

“Before you even think about it, no. We're saving at _least_ two slices of quiche for Roy and that is final. That still leaves two slices for each of us, and I don't think Elicia can eat two slices.”

“I can too!” Elicia protested, clearly not happy about being ignored. Then, she tilted her head to the side in thought. “ _Uncle_ Roy?”

“Yes, sweetie, Uncle Roy is coming to visit,” Maes said, to which Elicia  _beamed_ . He would never be able to get over how adorable his daughter's admiration for Roy was, especially since Roy had no idea what to do with it. “He'll be with us for a few days while he helps Ed and Al.”

“Ed and Al?” Elicia echoed. “I thought they had to go?”

“Yes, they left a few days ago, but Roy is helping them to find out some things, so he can tell them when they get back,” Gracia said. “Isn't that nice of him?”

“Uncle Roy is nice,” Elicia agreed. “But not as nice as Winry. Is _she_ coming to visit?”

“Hopefully soon,” Maes told Elicia. “I don't know when. Maybe she'll come back to Central when the Elric brothers do. I'm sure she'd love to come by and see you.”

“And we'd love to have her,” added Gracia. “She's such a sweet girl, and I made sure to let her know that she's always welcome here. You know, she asked me if I could teach her how to make—” 

Gracia was cut off by the sharp ringing of the telephone, and her lips pursed slightly.

Maes winced when he realized her cool gaze was directed at him; he'd stood up almost immediately out of habit. “Ah... sorry,” he muttered, and sat back down. “Please, continue.”

Gracia looked pleased, but still hesitated. “If it's urgent, then by all means—”

“No, no,” Maes waved her off. “I took off early so I could spend some time with my family, and that's exactly what I intend to do. I'm sure whatever it is can wait until after dinner at least. If it's anything really important, they'll just call again.” He reached across the table and clasped Gracia's hand. “I know I've been working a lot lately, but know that the two of you matter more to me than my job ever has.”

Gracia blushed. “Well!” The phone had stopped ringing. “I suppose that's that, then. Elicia, how was pre-school today?”

His daughter quickly launched into a rambling story, and Maes hid his smile behind one hand while the other still held Gracia's, the delicious food momentarily forgotten as he devoted all his attention to his two girls, his wonderful family.

It wasn't until over an hour later, while Maes was helping Gracia wash the dishes and Elicia was contentedly snuggling a stuffed animal in bed, that the phone rang again.

“That'll be the Amestris military,” Maes said. “At least they had the decency to wait a little bit before bothering me again when I purposefully took a few hours off.”

“Go,” Gracia shoved his shoulder lightly. “Answer it. I can finish up here.”

“I'm going, I'm going!” Maes laughed, and tucked the plate he'd been in the middle of drying under his arm before heading towards the phone. “Can't keep them waiting forever or they'll find someone to replace me, and this job was a  _bitch_ to get.”

“Maes!” Gracia stage whispered, with a meaningful nod of her head toward Elicia's door. “Language!”

“You know it's the truth,” he whispered back, though he did it so loudly— as they were across the room from each other —that he might as well have been yelling. He picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes?” asked an unfamiliar voice. “This is Second Lieutenant Watts.” An equally unfamiliar name.

“Yes,” he replied. “I apologize for not answering your call earlier, I'm at home.”

“Earlier?” Watts said. “I don't believe we called you prior to this.”

Huh. That was odd, but not impossible. Someone not affiliated with the military could've called him before. Perhaps one of Elicia's friends had left a toy at their house after the birthday party.

“After all, the body was only discovered recently,” Watts continued, then made a small, regretful noise, like he wished he hadn't said that.

“Body?” Hughes echoed. So this was about a new case, then. “There's been a murder? Do you need me at the scene?”

A pause. “No, sir. I... you may want to sit down.”

Maes resisted the urge to scoff. “I'm the head of investigations; trust me, I've both seen and heard all the gruesome details. Was it Scar? Or do you not have any suspects yet? Do you just need me to consult?”

“We're not calling you as head of investigations, sir,” Watts said. Hughes had never spoken to the man before, but something in his voice was still... off. Uneasiness settled in Maes' gut.

“I'm not sure I understand,” he said, though his mind was coming up with all the possible other reasons they could be calling him, and none of the answers were good. _The body was only discovered recently._

“You're Roy Mustang's emergency contact, correct?”

Maes' heart started pounding. “I... yes.” He'd insisted Roy make him his emergency contact after Ishval, because he'd learned that Roy didn't have one. He... didn't realize that Roy had never changed it, because he'd never been called about it before. Because Roy usually instructed the doctors not to.

The unease transformed to a mind-numbing fear faster than Maes would've though possible.

_The body was only discovered recently,_ Watts had said. _The body. The_ body _._

“What's wrong?” His voice sounded far away to his own ears. In the distance, Gracia was asking him something, calling over the sound of the running water in the sink. But every noise had faded besides the words on the other line. “What's wrong with Roy?”  _What happened to my best friend?_

Another terrible silence from Second Lieutenant Watts, and all Maes could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. “Like I said, you may want to sit down.” 

“ _Tell me_ .” Maes was not aware that his own voice could sound so... so furious. It was practically a snarl. He couldn't even bring himself to care. Because he was searching his brain for answers, and the logical conclusion his mind kept jumping to was impossible. Because... because...

“Roy Mustang was found dead just under an hour ago.”

The plate slipped from his grasp onto the ground, and broke into pieces on impact.

Maes felt like something in him had shattered, too.

* * *

Roy ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. Hours spent searching for information on the philosopher's stone, and next to nothing to show for it. He was supposed to be sitting down to dinner with the Hughes family, but he refused to retire empty handed. He wanted to find at least _one_ thing he thought might be useful for the Elrics to know. So, he kept flipping through file after file, wondering if this was what Hughes had to do on a daily basis.

He knew his best friend did not envy the life of a dog of the military one bit, but to Roy it was preferable to all this  _busywork_ . How did Hughes possibly keep all the cases straight in his head? Roy couldn't understand it.

He was also beginning to feel the slightest bit guilty for not giving the Elrics more time to devote to their search. It was much more difficult than he'd thought.

All mentions of the philosopher's stone that he could find in the texts were purely theoretical, and none of them told Roy anything he hadn't already known. An object that could perform alchemy without needing to abide by the laws of equivalent exchange. Something all powerful that could allow transmutations to be performed with the utmost ease, no formula or circle necessary. The key to the mysteries of the world, perhaps even immortality itself.

And all mentions clarified that, of course, no such object could possibly exist.

Roy had looked into the tattoo Edward had mentioned as well, but he hadn't found much. The so-called “Ouroboros” symbol of a dragon eating its own tail was a symbol for infinity, particularly when referring to life. He hadn't been able to find any information on people wearing it as a tattoo, so he could only assume it was the chosen sign of whoever thought sacrificing people for more power was a good pastime. Roy's best guess was some sort of alchemist cult whose experiments were sponsored by a few higher ups in the military trying to claim some of that power for themselves, which would more than explain the swept under the rug disappearances of prisoners into the Fifth Laboratory.

But then suddenly, a new idea struck him.

The Elrics had recently traveled to Liore on the basis of rumors of a philosopher's stone there, hadn't they? Of course, they'd told him it'd been a fake, but what if...

Perhaps Roy had been looking in the wrong place.

He went down the hall to the archive room as fast as he could manage with crutches. There wouldn't be records of the existence of a philosopher's stone there, but if stones had been  _used_ at any point in time in Amestris, there had to be evidence of it, right?

Roy pulled out recent reports on Liore, scanning through them hungrily, and hoping for some kind of clue as to whether or not this 'Father Cornello' really had a stone in his possession. What he found instead... made him stop short.

That... that  _couldn't_ be right.

Roy had heard of the uprisings in Liore brought on by the religious conflict, everyone had, but he also knew for a fact that there had been military aid dispatched to resolve it, even to take the priest responsible for starting the craze of the new religion, Letoism, into custody if necessary. He'd understood that things in Liore had gotten a bit gruesome. But that still didn't explain the casualty rate being so  _high_ . And the conflict was still ongoing?

“Christ, it seems like every other day there's reports of some new skirmish,” Roy muttered to himself. “The sheer loss of life is just... just...”

He trailed off. Glanced at a map of Amestris pinned up on the wall. And took it down.

There wouldn't be evidence of whoever these people were  _ using  _ the stones, of course there wouldn't. But as the Elric brothers had already discovered, creating these all powerful artifacts required human souls. Major casualties would be necessary for each and every one. So if the man responsible for causing all the chaos in Liore had done so  _ with  _ a philosopher's stone, then maybe that very stone was given to him by the suspects that had met Fullmetal in the Fifth Laboratory. Maybe they were intent on making more.

Roy eyed the map again, then the files surrounding him on all sides.

Maybe they already had.

He began first from memory, and then consulted the archives whenever he needed more precise details. Edward had already mentioned that creating philosopher's stones would have been easy to cover-up during the Ishvalan War... why hadn't this occurred to Roy  _ sooner _ ? Amestris had plenty of bloodshed in its past, and as Roy circled the center of each major civil war the country had gone through dating back up to hundreds of years, a clear pattern emerged.

A strange, unfamiliar transmutation circle that Roy had never seen before in his life, but that stirred a feeling of unease in him nevertheless. He'd be willing to bet that it was the very circle Edward had seen on the floor of the Fifth Laboratory; the one used to create philosopher's stones.

If Roy was right about what this meant...

The entire  _ nation _ could die.

“Who is responsible for this...?” he wondered aloud, voice barely a whisper. It was no longer hypothetical— high-up military officials had to be involved. A plot of this magnitude wouldn't have escaped notice otherwise. And they'd have to have at least one powerful alchemist supporting them.  _ Extremely _ powerful, if they were operating at this scale, unless several alchemists were working with them. But Roy found that possibility hard to believe, since so many had perished thanks to Scar and whoever Edward had met in the lab still seemed to be under the impression that their plan was uninterrupted. Who the  _ hell  _ were the people with the tattoos, anyway? Were there more of them? Were they the masterminds behind the whole ordeal?

Regardless, that wasn't important right now. Roy had to pass on what he'd already discovered at  _ once _ . The only point in the circle that had not yet seen mass casualties was Briggs, the northern base on Amestris' border with Drachma. That meant there was still time to stop it. “The Fuhrer needs to hear about this,” Roy said, with a decisive nod, and slid the map into his front pocket. And probably General Armstrong up north, assuming she would listen to him.

A figure stepped into Roy's periphery then. The door to the archive room, which he'd left open, slammed shut as a woman slid out from the shadows. Black hair, black dress, pale skin, and a red ouroboros tattoo to match her bright red lips that were twisted into a cruel smirk. For a moment, he could do nothing but gape at her.

“It's rude to stare,” she said sweetly, with a gesture at the tattoo on her chest. “Hello, Flame Colonel. It  _ is  _ nice to finally meet you, and I suppose it's true; you are very handsome. Though I do fear the stories I've heard of your skill in combat will leave me... disappointed.”

“I would hate to disappoint,” Roy said, with a smirk of his own, and slid his right hand into his pocket, where his gloves waited. “I do have a reputation to uphold. Humor me for a moment, will you? You wouldn't happen to be the woman who nearly killed my subordinate, would you? Because if so, I'm afraid we're going to have a bit of a problem.”

“The Fullmetal Alchemist is too valuable an asset for us to kill,” she said, a gleam in her eyes that made Roy glad he'd been able to put his glove on without her noticing. “You, however, have made yourself too dangerous to keep around, I'm afraid. I'm sure you'll understand.”

“You're here to kill me?” Roy asked, tone casual despite the fear he felt. “I'd like to see you try.”

“Ah, the rumors are true. You don't spare a thought to your own death,” the woman replied. “I must admit, it's a tad refreshing. I'm used to screams, pleas for mercy. But you simply challenge. I suppose you are as fearless as they say. Or as stupid.”

Roy couldn't help but huff a laugh. Her words reminded him, in a twisted sort of way, of Hughes' digs at his poor decision making. Even so, “I think you'll find you're the one that's out of her league. Not me.”

“Hmm,” the woman hummed, and tilted her head to the side. “As far as last words go, yours aren't too bad.” She lifted a hand, fingers stretching and turning sharp as knives.

Edward had warned him about that, but... Roy hadn't really believed it until now.

“Goodbye, Colonel,” said the woman, and then in the next moment she threw her hand forward, sharpened fingers rushing towards him.

Roy had known she would attack eventually, though, so he was ready. He threw himself backwards in an attempt to get out of the way, and lifted up his arm in a block.

Pain seared first through his shoulder, and then his forearm; two well placed blows that could easily have pierced his heart if he hadn't moved aside. The woman frowned, but before she had a chance to move again, Roy snapped his fingers. Sure, he'd used his arm to block one of the blows, but it had also given him the perfect opportunity to aim his alchemy.

The mysterious woman burst into flame with a furious, agonized shout. Roy didn't wait around to watch her burn to a crisp; he couldn't be sure if there were more of them or not. So he shoved past her out the door, and ran like hell.

Or... he would've. He actually ended up falling out the door, the archives quickly catching fire behind him— that certainly had been poor planning, hadn't it, but he still had the map and Scheska could just recopy whatever they'd lost —due to the fact that his leg was still broken and he was losing a surprising amount of blood from his two puncture wounds.

Roy used the wall to shove himself to his feet, creating a smudge of blood across the pristine white surface, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It smeared as he walked; even leaning heavily against the wall to support his weight made his bad leg hurt like hell, but he couldn't exactly go back for his momentarily forgotten crutches now. He pressed hard on the wound in his shoulder with his also injured arm, blood already having created a significant stain on the left side of his uniform. Christ, he certainly would be a sight to see when he arrived at Hughes' for dinner.

As he stumbled into the lobby, the woman at the desk turned to him with a bright smile that immediately transformed into an expression of sheer horror.

“C-Colonel Mustang, sir!” she exclaimed, voice already edged with panic. “You're bleeding! What happened?!”

Roy almost asked if she hadn't, in fact, heard the shrieks of someone being burned alive, then thought better of it. “I... I need a private line,” he breathed, not stopping in his walk to the phones. He picked up the receiver, and... goodness, there really was blood  _ everywhere.  _ Whoever went to use this phone next would be very concerned. “I have to call...” The Fuhrer. Immediately. But how would he explain that to her?

Wait.

“But sir!” the receptionist protested. “You're... you're injured! Do you need me to call an—”

“No, that won't be necessary,” Roy said as confidently as he could manage, in an attempt to brush her off. “I'm perfectly all right.”

“You are  _ not—” _

“Actually,” Roy interrupted, a thought occurring to him. “Sorry about that. Forget I was here. I think I'll... be heading home now.”

“But...  _ Colonel Mustang _ !” she called after him anxiously, but Roy paid her no mind.

He had no idea why he was just now considering it, but... with  _ everything  _ he'd just found out, did he really know that the Fuhrer King Bradley could be trusted? In fact, it seemed almost more likely that he  _ was  _ involved.

After all, he'd been in power for as long as Roy could remember. Surely a man as brilliant as him wouldn't have let something of this magnitude go unnoticed. Unless, of course, he already knew about it. And  _ Bradley  _ was the one who ordered the extermination of Ishvalans. Perhaps... perhaps he'd known exactly what he was doing, even back then.

What if whoever was responsible wasn't covering up their making philosopher's stones by using conflicts that resulted in bloodshed? What if... that was the whole reason for the conflicts starting in the first place, just like Liore?

All of this ran through Roy's mind as he slowly made his way to the nearest phone booth. This way, he could be sure that no one traced the call. But... who could he even tell about something like this? Who would  _ believe  _ him? And most importantly, who did he know without all shadow of a doubt that he could trust to be on his side?

Well. When Roy thought of it like that, it was almost too easy.

He reached the phone booth and practically threw the door open, not bothering to close it behind him. The small, covered space almost felt like salvation. He was still gushing blood, and his bad leg felt like it'd been blasted apart all over again, but the phone was in his hand and he was so,  _ so _ close. He dialed the familiar number of the Hughes residence, and waited to be connected.

Roy's hand shook slightly as he held the receiver. He felt as if he were holding onto a lifeline, of some sort. Maybe he was, in a way. The other hand was still pressed firmly to the wound in his shoulder.

He _had_ to tell Hughes what he'd found out— the countrywide transmutation circle couldn't be allowed to be completed. And as much as Maes irritated him, there was no one else he trusted the information with more.

Well, except for maybe Hawkeye, but she had returned to East City, waiting for him to come back from looking into this particular research and setting things in order for a permanent transfer to Central in his stead. He had no idea whether she'd be at home, since she frequently remained at work late. But right now Hughes would be eating dinner with his family. In other words, Hughes' line would be secure. He hoped. But he'd tell Riza in person once he got out of this.

 _If_. If he got out of this.

Roy Mustang was no fool, and just because he'd managed to stop that unsettling woman with a wall of fire didn't mean that he was out of the woods just yet. This was undoubtedly a huge operation, probably including a great number of the senior staff, and learning about their master plan had just painted a huge target on his back. More people would certainly be coming to take him out, and he planned to be well on his way before they arrived. Maybe if he asked politely enough, Hughes would come to get him. Roy doubted he'd make it all the way on foot, but he'd try.

And yet, he heard the click of a gun from behind him. Roy sighed, entirely not in the mood to have to burn someone alive today. Again. But sometimes, these things just had to be done.

He turned slowly, still keeping one hand clutching the receiver as the operator— who seemed less than aware of his dire situation —informed him that the call would be connected shortly.

“Hang up the phone, sir,” said a familiar, frustrated voice from behind him. “I knew you used this phone booth to talk to your dates, but it's getting a tad ridiculous.”

He recognized the voice after a moment as belonging to Second Lieutenant Maria Ross, and for a moment he was relieved— until he actually saw her.

“You're not Maria Ross,” he observed bluntly, and he didn't miss the shadow that passed over the imposter's face. “Maria Ross has a mole under her left eye. And she wouldn't be stupid enough to point a gun at _me_. Unfortunately for you, you are.”

The person that was not Maria Ross just smiled in response, a feral, terrifying thing. Then they tapped the skin under their right eye. With a flash of red light, the missing mole appeared. Roy's mind reeled.

“Better?” they asked, still grinning.

“Not by much, but I do appreciate attention to detail,” Roy managed to get out, over his growing fear that he found himself unable to shove down. _You've really gotten in over my head this time, Roy_. “But I'd still prefer to know who you really are.”

“I think you know too much already,” they answered plainly. “That's why I'm here. But I assume you've figured that much out. You've been figuring things out a lot lately, haven't you, Flame Alchemist?”

Roy forced himself to turn away from the gun pointed at his chest, bringing the phone back up to his ear. It was ringing now; if Hughes answered and he could somehow _tell_ him, then it'd all be worth it. He wondered if he could snap his fingers without whoever this was noticing and pulling the trigger. He needed to aim, or he could accidentally light up the entire phone booth. “So it would seem.”

“It's a shame, really,” the imposter continued. “That you had to go snooping around. You were an excellent candidate for sacrifice. But some things just can't be helped. We can't have you running your mouth. I'm sure you understand.”

 _Sacrifice_. Like Edward? Roy had no idea what they were talking about, but he knew he had to stall for time. He couldn't let himself get mad. Somehow, he would get the upper hand.

The phone was still ringing.

“You're assuming that I wouldn't want to help you,” he said. It was the first thing that came to mind. “I'm a soldier trying to move up in the ranks, and if I'm correct, this plot involves a large number of the senior staff. I'm the Hero of Ishval, and I'm sure that regardless of who you are, you know what that means. I have no qualms whatsoever about killing to get what I want.” The very words he spoke made him sick, but this wasn't just to save his own skin. Passing this information along could mean saving _everyone_ in Amestris, everyone in the whole world from whatever these people were trying to do. “You called me the Flame Alchemist, and yet you think I don't want to watch the world burn?”

There was a beat of silence in which Roy tried to calm his nerves. He still couldn't see this person's face, but they continued to speak in the voice of Maria Ross.

Roy had never heard the Lieutenant sound like this though; with a smug, lilting voice that somehow still managed to send chills up his spine.

“ _Oh_? You can't possibly believe that something as simple as your silence would convince me to spare your life, when I could achieve the same result with a bullet.”

“My silence, and my aid,” Roy promised, though it went against everything he stood for. “My abilities at the whim of whoever you work for, and all I ask is a small share in the benefit. You can always change your mind and shoot me later, but a State Alchemist as powerful as me on your side would tip the scales a great deal in your favor. Or do you forget how easily I can turn a battle into a massacre?”

He still faced the wall of the phone booth, not daring to turn around for fear that they would see straight through his lies. The phone was still ringing. _Come on, Maes._

The ringing stopped, and there was nothing but a dial tone.

Roy simply stood there for a second in shock. Hughes... hadn't picked up. Roy couldn't remember the last time that had happened. It almost made him want to laugh— how ironic that the first time his best friend wasn't stubbornly there for him when Roy needed it was... this. Roy had failed.

It appeared that this secret would die with him.

“Seems like you'll have to join us,” the imposter said, glee clear in their voice. “Because clearly you're out of other options. Who was supposed to be on the other end of that call? That lovely blonde Lieutenant that you're always hanging around? What was her name?”

Roy squeezed his eyes shut. _Now or never._ He dropped the receiver. He'd never actually join them, and he knew exactly what that meant. But the least he could do was go out fighting.

The person behind him continued on, still sounding entirely too pleased with themself. “I think our Father would like those terms, Colonel Mustang. You'll be burning more bodies than you did in the War of Extermination, that you can be sure of.”

“Yes,” Roy agreed. “ _And I'll start with yours!_ ”

He whirled around, gloved hand raised, fingers poised to snap and—

And he didn't.

Because suddenly, he was staring straight into the warm brown eyes of his Lieutenant. _Riza_.

He was so used to the sight of a gun in her hand that he barely even registered that she had it pointed at him.

And he knew, he _knew_ deep down that it wasn't real. This monster had just been disguised as Maria Ross moments ago, and Lieutenant Hawkeye was still in East City. And yet...

And yet.

He still couldn't do it. In that moment, he froze, because he'd already burned the love of his life once. And even though it was at her request, he'd vowed never to do so again.

“I knew it,” she said, with a terrible smile nothing like the soft ones he cherished so much, the ones she saved just for him. And then she shot him.

Roy slid down the wall with the impact and the all encompassing pain, pain, _pain_ that seemed to make the rest of the world fall away. He spotted the phone hanging limp just inches above his head, and he reached for it. Were his hands still shaking, or was that just the tilt the world seemed to have taken on? He'd pressed his other hand to his stomach, where the bullet had struck, and found that his usually pristine white glove was already almost entirely soaked through with red.

Ha. It was wet anyway, which meant he wouldn't have been able to use it.

Roy had been a dead man the second he'd gotten into this phone booth.

Riza, still grinning down at him, picked up the phone and hung up. She turned and left him there, sitting on the floor of the phone booth, watching the pool of blood slowly spreading out from his body. If.. if he could stand up and just call for help...

But no, he knew he was done for. He couldn't reach the phone from the ground, and with his leg and the amount of blood loss he'd already sustained... he wouldn't be able to do it. Hell, even if he did call an ambulance, it wouldn't arrive in time.

A strange sort of acceptance flooded through him, at the same time the blood around him went from oddly warm and comforting to just... cold. That couldn't be a good sign, but Roy couldn't find it in himself to care. He had that same feeling again, the one he'd had with Scar. He just was so, so _tired._ He didn't want to die, but just as in that situation, he knew it was inevitable. He only wished he'd been able to pass along what he knew. But the Elrics were smart kids. They'd get it eventually, and put a stop to it. He knew they would.

He watched the retreating form of his killer as it transformed with another flash of red energy into an unfamiliar figure, with black clothes and dark hair just as the woman from before had.

The real Riza would have stubbornly refused to leave his side. Instead, he'd be leaving hers.

Roy had failed both his best friend and the woman he loved. He'd be letting them down further by dying on them.

Even though he struggled to stay awake, Roy's vision soon faded completely to black.

And then white.

* * *

Maes didn't remember how he'd arrived at the scene, really. Everything following the phone call had been a blur of white noise and unimportant imagery. He vaguely recalled demanding to know where, and then pressing the phone into Gracia's hands as he rushed right out of the door without explanation. He could apologize to her later. Right now... he had to see for himself. He had to be _sure._ He wouldn't believe it until he saw it with his own two eyes.

The drive over was nothing but static in his mind as soon as he got out of the car, which was probably dangerous, but Maes couldn't possibly focus on anything else besides the scene in front of him. The area was taped off, with military officers milling around everywhere and red and blue sirens flashing.

 _It's a crime scen_ e, Maes thought with a jolt. But he refused to accept what that would mean.

Maes knew the spot well. He'd used this exact phone booth just a block or so away from Central Headquarters to call Gracia many times in the past. He couldn't see inside from where he stood, which meant he still didn't have confirmation. He still didn't know for certain.

He still felt that small, shred of false hope inside him, even though he'd already been told what happened.

Even when he saw Lieutenant Havoc sitting on the curb, a complete, sobbing wreck... even then, Maes didn't want to believe it. Even though he'd never seen the man so much as tear up before.

Even when he moved through the small crowd of officers, and his eyes landed on the overwhelming amount of blood in the phone booth. It trailed down one wall and all over the phone, only to pool at the bottom. It had spilled out onto the street.

Maes shoved his way through the crowd, and ducked under the tape even when he heard protests from somewhere behind him.

“Sir, this is a crime scene, you can't just—”

“Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” he spat out, reaching for his identification and showing it to the irrelevant, nameless soldier who had dared to step in front of him. “I'm the head of investigations, and I was called and informed that my best friend had just been murdered, so kindly get the _fuck_ out of my way.” He knew he'd regret being so rude later; he was dressed in civilian clothes, after all, so the man was really just doing his job, but right now Maes didn't care at all.

All he cared about was the ambulance he'd set his sights on. Roy would be in there. He'd be hurt real bad— what else was new —but ultimately okay. He was always okay. He'd be rushed to the hospital, like always, and Maes would come with him, like always, and Roy would keep on living, like always.

But he was forced to let go of that fantasy when he pushed his way through to the front, and saw the body.

No, not a body. He'd seen plenty of those. This was _Roy_. His best friend. One of the people in this world that he trusted and loved most.

And he was lying on a stretcher beside the ambulance with a sheet covering him all the way up to his waist. His eyes were closed, and one arm dangled limply off the side. There was blood covering the front of his uniform and his hands, it was _everywhere._ And so _much_ of it. It even trailed down from the corner of his mouth, and his skin was far too pale.

“Oh, _God_ ,” Maes whispered, and his voice sounded foreign to his own ears. Absently, he realized that his legs had failed to support him, as he was now kneeling on the ground, eye level with what was left of his best friend. “Roy... you....”

He couldn't finish the sentence. He'd brought Roy back from numerous scrapes with death in the past, and Roy had saved his life easily just as many times, if not more. And instead of staying late and looking into the issue with him, Maes had gone home to have dinner with his wife and kids.

 _Oh God._ Roy would never have that. He'd never _get_ to settle down, like Maes had always told him he should. Roy always complained about Maes gushing over Gracia, but he was just as bad with Hawkeye. And he'd always said he didn't want kids, but Maes saw the way he acted around the Elric brothers. The _Elrics_... they'd already left Central. Who would tell them?

The nurse beside the stretcher startled and noticed him, then winced and covered Roy entirely with the sheet. Red immediately bled through the fabric. She wheeled him away, and though Maes wanted to protest, insist that she couldn't take Roy... he said nothing. Another officer approached and tried to shoo Maes away, saying he was too close to the issue to get involved, and that his hysteria would only harm the investigation— Maes hadn't realized he'd started crying until the sympathetic expressions of the other officers made him aware. His breaths came in short gasps.

“There was a report of a gunshot much earlier, but the body wasn't found until someone else happened to try and use the phonebooth,” they were saying. “It was probably an assassination by someone who disagreed with the war, or with the military in general. Or even Scar. Someone caught Colonel Mustang off guard while he was making a late night call.”

Maes didn't buy it for one moment. First of all, Scar didn't use bullets, so that was a weak suspect right from the start. Second, Roy didn't _get_ caught off guard. He was too smart for that, too strong. He forgot to take care of himself sometimes, which worried Maes, but in the end Roy had no intention of actually letting himself die. He'd said so. So how had this happened?

Maes wasn't stupid enough to not make the connection to what Roy had been researching. Clearly, he had learned something he would've been better off not knowing. And it had cost him.

“Lieutenant Colonel,” a gentle voice said from somewhere close to him. “I know Colonel Mustang was a close friend of yours. But I'm going to have to ask that you step away from the crime scene. Let the higher ups do their job— let them figure out who did this. I assure you, the military will not rest until his killer is brought to justice. You should return home, try and get some rest.”

He wanted to protest, but he knew it wouldn't do much good. Everyone knew how close he and Roy were, and even if he typically had the authority on these types of cases, there was no way that would apply here. Maes stood up, offered what he hoped was a convincing if pained smile, and nodded. “I... I think that would be best,” he agreed, his voice trembling horribly. “I'll be on my way soon. Please... _please_ let me know if there are any developments.”

Maes was lying through his teeth of course. He fully intended to find out who had done this, and deal with them himself. He was almost... scared by his own thoughts. The devastation was imminent as soon as he'd seen Roy and realized he had to stop denying the truth, but... rage was an emotion Maes rarely ever felt. And yet it was almost more prominent than his sadness now; he wanted justice for this. He wanted revenge. He wanted to make whoever had killed Roy  _hurt_ .

But for now, he walked over to Lieutenant Havoc as calmly as he could muster, even as his whole body kept shaking, and his fists were clenched so tightly that his fingernails were surely leaving crescent shaped indents on his palms. The other man looked up and his eyes, already red and puffy from crying as Maes could imagine his own were, widened.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” he stammered, leaning back slightly from where he sat on the curb. “I—”

“What happened here?” Maes cut him off. “I was under the impression that _you_ would be staying with Roy during his time in Central while Lieutenant Hawkeye handled his affairs back in East City. _You_ were supposed to be _guarding_ him.”

“I... I was—”

“You clearly weren't doing your job,” Maes snapped. Havoc visibly flinched at that, and Maes felt a small twinge of regret. The two of them had talked on many occasions, and Maes even considered Havoc a friend. But with Roy gone, he just felt cold, closed off. He wouldn't spare any forgiveness for the people responsible, and if that included Havoc, then so be it. “Tell me why you weren't with him.”

Havoc took a shaky breath. “He sent me home, he just... I was reluctant, because I knew I was supposed to stay with him, but. He insisted that he would be fine as long as he remained at headquarters, and he is my superior officer, so... I listened.” He buried his face in his hands. “I shouldn't have done that. He knew it was a risk, damn him, but he didn't want me to see whatever he was researching. Something about it being dangerous. He wasn't supposed to leave headquarters, though. Not without calling me, so I could get him.”

Maes could understand that. With a heavy sigh, he sank down to sit beside Havoc, letting the fury drain out of him for the moment. “Of course he didn't. Classic Roy, putting others first. I'm... I'm sorry I snapped at you.”

Havoc shook his head. “You had every right to. I know how close you two were, and even if he ordered me to leave I shouldn't have listened. My job was to protect him, and I  _failed_ ,” Havoc said, his voice soft. “What... what will I tell the team? What will I tell  _Hawkeye_ ?”

“The truth,” Maes responded simply. “They'll understand, just like I do. It's not your fault. Whatever bastard is responsible, though... whoever shot that gun... we'll get them. We'll find them and return the favor.”

Havoc stared at him for a moment in surprise, clearly not used to such words coming from Maes. But the fiery determination he knew Havoc possessed came back into his eyes, and he nodded once, then turned away again.

“He wasn't supposed to leave headquarters,” Havoc said again. “I don't know if they told you this, but he was attacked even before he left. The receptionist is a valuable witness, probably the last person to have seen him alive before his murder. Apparently, he came out of the archive room with two wounds already; in his shoulder and arm. The... the blood's all over the hall. And said room was apparently left with some pretty significant burns.”

Maes considered this. “We should probably talk to her ourselves, and see if she knows anything else.”

Havoc nodded, but then just dropped his head into his arms once more. “I just don't  _understand._ ”

“I know what you mean.” Losing Roy... it wasn't right. It wasn't fair. He'd had so much he still needed to accomplish. And now Maes was supposed to accept that he was just  _gone_ ?

“No, I mean, he was supposed to call  _me_ , but he didn't. When I picked up the phone and was informed of the news, I expected it to be Roy on the other end, since it was the first call I got all night!” Havoc explained, lifting his head and meeting Maes' eyes. “I don't get it, though! Supposedly he was about to call someone at headquarters, only to leave abruptly and come here. And he  _did_ call someone at this phone booth, I just have no idea who! Why wouldn't he have called  _me_ if he was in danger?”

It finally clicked in Maes' head, then, and everything in his world just. Stopped. His heart stalled in his chest, everything in his mind went completely blank, his breath hitched, and everything around him seemed to slow to match.

Of course Roy didn't call Havoc, and of course he didn't call from headquarters. Whatever he had to say would've been related to his research, which Havoc knew nothing about. Maes, on the other hand...

“He called me.” His voice came out a whisper, so soft that he could barely hear it himself.

“What?”

“He called me,” Maes repeated, louder. “Before... before they called me to tell me what had happened to Roy, I got another call, during dinner. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but... it must've been Roy.” The color drained from his face. “I didn't even  _pick up_ .”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Havoc said quickly, placing a hand on Maes' shoulder. “What did you just tell me? This isn't your fault either, no way.”

“I didn't pick  _up_ , Havoc,” Maes said again, bringing a hand to tear at his hair in frustration. “The last thing he did was try to call me, and I didn't  _answer._ If I had... he might be here, right now, or we'd at least know why he wasn't. He needed me, and I wasn't there.” He shook his head. “I...I wasn't there.”

He'd made so many promises to Roy, recently. Hadn't he said, after Scar, that he'd always be there for Roy? That he'd always support him? He... he  _would,_ or at least he'd wanted to, and Roy knew that, he  _knew_ Roy knew that, but... what did that even matter? Maes had wanted nothing more than to be someone Roy could depend on, someone worthy of the trust Roy had given him, and when Roy had really, truly needed him... it had amounted to nothing. Maes had just ignored his best friend in favor of sitting back down to dinner with his lovely family, perfectly content to pretend for a moment that lives weren't at stake.

What a cruel trick of the universe this was, to punish Maes for being selfish. He'd ignored a call to spend time with two people he loved, and lost a third in return. He would've given anything to go back in time and pick up that phone.

But of course, it was already done.

_Roy needed me, and I wasn't there for him. And now he's dead._ Those facts would always be true, and now they were the biggest regret of Maes' life.

He stared at the ground, and let his eyes, already welling again with tears, travel back to that cursed phone booth. They still hadn't cleaned up the pool of blood. Maes felt like he was going to be sick, looking at it.

And he just broke down, devastated to his very core.

Maes Hughes was an optimist. He tried to keep a sunny, positive outlook no matter how hopeless things seemed. He'd held onto that spirit during the war in Ishval, and he'd let it become something for others to hold onto and count on as well. Including Roy.

He glanced over at the body again, and choked on a sob.

Right now, without Roy, everything just looked dark. He couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel anymore, and he didn't want to. He knew he wouldn't find one.  _Roy Mustang is dead._

Maes felt as if Roy had taken a part of himself with him to the grave, and in that moment, he sort of wished that Roy had just taken it all.

* * *

Riza Hawkeye answered the phone bright and early the next morning, right before heading into work at East City headquarters. She thought it a bit odd that the Colonel hadn't updated her the previous night like he'd said he would, but he'd probably just gotten sidetracked and forgotten.

A small smile appeared on her face at that. He could be surprisingly forgetful, couldn't he? Good thing he had her around to remind him of all his important meetings.

That's when the phone rang, just as she started out the door. She doubled back to answer it. That would be the Colonel now.

It wasn't.

Yes, this was Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. No, she hadn't gotten a call late the previous night.

_Oh._ Her smile dropped off her face at the news, and she thanked the person on the other end for passing it along, then answered their questions as she slowly fell apart.

Yes, she had known he was in Central. No, she didn't have the slightest idea who may have been responsible. Yes, she would be on her way to Central as soon as possible to... to help organize the funeral. Of course. Of course. Thank you, and goodbye.

Riza hung the phone up. Black Hayaye tilted his head in confusion at the absolutely blank look on her face. She sank onto the floor beside him, and just  _screamed._

* * *

Roy floated in a white space. The bang of the gunshot echoed in his ears again as if from underwater, and he knew nothing more.

In the silence, flashes of memory surfaced one by one. Pieces of the life that had slipped through his fingers. Images long cherished by his eyes alone.

A children's picture book propped open on the counter of his Aunt's bar, her warm hand ruffling his hair when he got the words right all by himself. He sat on a stool with a juice box, surrounded by his sisters and other people who drank from bottles he wasn't allowed to touch.

A long, dark road that he trudged down alone, excitement coursing through him at the thought of what awaited him at the end of it. A small, worn down house came into view, and through the window he could just barely see a young girl, with very short blonde hair. She was looking at him, and she was the most beautiful person Roy had ever seen.

A chalk circle on the ground, and Roy with his hands placed beside it, hoping with all his might that  _this_ time he could get something to happen, that he could prove Mr. Hawkeye hadn't been a fool to take Roy as an apprentice. And then?  _Fire_ . Brighter than Roy could've ever imagined, and so much stronger than Hawkeye had expected that Riza had to go running for a bucket of water. The floor was left singed.

Stolen kisses in the night with the daughter of his teacher, her brown eyes glowing in dim light and her finger over her lips as they both swore their secrecy. One night where the two of them snuck out and didn't return from town until dawn.

A tearful goodbye when he left for the academy, on that had Mr. Hawkeye narrowing his eyes in suspicion as Roy hugged his daughter. Or it could've been in disapproval of Roy's decision to attend the academy at all. Roy had never been quite sure.

A piece of delicious quiche stolen right from under his nose, and Roy's desire to return the favor which snowballed into him making his first true friend at school. Competing with one Maes Hughes at every possible opportunity.

And then Hughes pointing a gun at the kids that had dared with mess with Roy and Heathcliff with a stupid smile on his face. They fought the bullies off together, and then laughed together when they got punished for it.

Standing with Riza over the grave of her father, swapping their dreams for the future and the soft look in her eyes when she said that she trusted him, and that she believed he could make a difference. Roy had never been told that before.

Riza revealing the secrets of flame alchemy, tattooed on her back, and the resulting hurricane of emotions Roy felt. Gratitude that she would show this to him. Awe at the intricate transmutation circles in bright red ink. Outrage that her own father would put such a burden on her. Wonder as to whether she'd had a choice in the matter, whether it had hurt. Her face had been vulnerable when she'd turned back around to look at him, and he decided not to ask any of his questions. She'd already shown him more than enough.

The alchemy exam, in which the Fuhrer expressed his doubt that someone of Roy's 'background' could become a soldier, and Roy responded by burning his mustache clean off. He would've been shot, if the Fuhrer weren't so impressed that Roy had managed it without actually injuring him. He asked for a larger demonstration of Roy's ability, and he obliged. He could see Maes laughing on the balcony that overlooked the room.

The first time he ever put the gloves on, and he felt like fate itself was basking in the warmth of his flames.

Ishval passed by altogether, a patch of darkness that Roy didn't want to remember, and yet could never forget. Heathcliff's blood splattered against the wall, but then Hughes gushed about Gracia and shook his shoulders and convinced him to keep living. He couldn't sleep because he could hear the Ishvalan children screaming even when all went quiet, and then he would look into Riza's eyes and it would pull him back, even though they'd lost their innocence. The smell of smoke that always clung to his clothes, and everything else. The lack of blood on his hands, because anyone that would've bled had been reduced to ash. The constant presence in his pocket of his silver pocket watch with the bullet still lodged in it; a reminder how he'd failed.

Burning the one he loved most so that no one could do what he'd done with the secrets on her back.

And then buckets with his blood in them and countless notes on human transmutation, only for the door to open to the bright hallway, revealing Maes Hughes who was just as bright with brownies that his beloved fiance had made, and a lecture on his lips.

Riza standing in front of his desk, now Lieutenant Hawkeye, swearing her allegiance. He'd be lying if he said he couldn't use a shot like her, and he never wanted to lie to her again. So, he warned her. It would be a dangerous path, if she chose to follow him. He never took the easy way, and he had his sights set on the top. Then words that had replayed in his mind a thousand times since she'd said them. “I'd follow you into hell if you ask me to.”

A wedding in which he'd been the reluctant best man, and  _no_ , Hughes, he was absolutely  _not_ tearing up, Roy Mustang did not  _cry,_ and he certainly did not do so at weddings. But his best friend was so happy, so maybe he'd been just a bit emotional. And maybe he'd still punched Hughes when he asked Roy when he planned on popping the question to Riza. And maybe Gracia had been very displeased that her husband would have a black eye for their honeymoon photos.

Meeting Havoc, Fuery, Breda, and Falman one by one, and one by one deciding that yes, these were people he could trust. He received constant teasing from all of them, yes, but he also teased them right back because that's what friends did, as Hughes had taught him; Havoc's terrible taste in women, Fuery's habit of assigning them all ridiculous code names, Breda's constant snacking in the office, and Falman's priceless fear of Black Hayate became some of his favorite material.

The warmth he felt at seeing the determination come back to the eyes of an eleven year old Edward Elric, the happiness at being able to bring those two boys hope again. The feeling that maybe, just maybe, if he could inspire them, then he wasn't too far off in thinking that he could still do good.

The immense pride he felt watching Edward in the State Alchemist Exam, breaking Roy's own record for the youngest to pass and surpassing his own insubordination as he pointed a spear he'd constructed directly at the Fuhrer's throat. All the officers around him had hands on their guns, but Roy just crossed his arms and shook his head, a fond smile on his face despite himself. He'd finally done something right.

Countless missions with an always growing team that he absolutely adored, with fingers snapping in gloves, and squeezing triggers, and switching radio dials. Always precise, always with a plan. They all followed him into hell, over and over again, without him needing to ask. They followed him anywhere.

The Elric brothers followed his instructions in a different way, with a grudging sort of respect. Roy pretended not to care for them, but he did, of course he did. His days brightened just a little bit more every time the boy with the too long, bright golden hair and the too ugly red coat along with the boy trapped in armor graced him with their presence. One always with a casual wave and a “Hey, Colonel Bastard!” and the other with a flustered “I'm sorry about him.”

And Hughes followed too, from afar, with phone calls more or less every week. Or did Roy follow him? Whatever the case may have been, one of these calls had been to inform Roy of news he'd waited nine months to hear. And though he feigned disinterest, he was on the first train to Central the next morning. He'd held Elicia in his arms for the first time, holding back tears at the sight of someone so innocent, someone who, unlike everyone else in his life, hadn't been touched by loss and destruction. He remembered Hughes asking, “Will you be the godfather?” He remembered nodding, shocked. He remembered swearing to protect Elicia's innocence for as long as he lived.

He remembered the day three years later, we're he'd attended a child's birthday party with a teddy bear, a bouquet of flowers, and a broken leg, and he'd used his alchemy to light the candles on the cake at her request. She'd asked him to teach her alchemy, and he hadn't even realized he'd want to until the option was taken from him.

One memory surfaced above them all.

The battle raging on was constant, and in a brief moment of rest, Roy found his best friend in the crowd waiting to be sent back into the fray. He tried to spend as much time with Hughes as he could, in those days... he'd found they could ground each other. “I will do all I can, however little that may be, to protect those who are dear to me. Those below me will protect those below them. We tiny humans should be able to do that much, at least.”

Roy had his eyes closed, and so he didn't see Hughes' expression at that. He hadn't exactly proposed this idea to anyone before. He hoped that Hughes would put together what he meant without him needing to spell it out.

“Geometric progression, huh?” Hughes asked, and Roy turned to look at him. His eyes were narrowed, calculating. He seemed to approve of whatever expression he saw on Roy's face, though, because the next moment he smirked. “That means that in order for you to protect the whole country, you'll need to be standing on the top of the pyramid.” He pointed to where Fuhrer King Bradley stood above them, literally looking down on them with his one remaining eye. They both simply observed the man for a single beat of silence.

“I'll bet it feels awfully good to be there, Hughes,” Roy said finally, his tone purposefully light. He brought his voice lower as the words became more incriminating. “But I won't be able to climb that high all by myself. I'm sure of that much.” In his words was a silent question, the same question he would later ask Riza.  _It'll be dangerous, but I need you. Will you follow me?_

Hughes simply scoffed. “What are you going on about?” he asked, as if the very words Roy had spoken couldn't get them both accused of treason. “This could be interesting. I'll take a piece of that action,” he continued, still smiling, because of course to Hughes there had never really been a question in the first place. “I want to see how your naïve idealism changes this country.”

Roy could've sworn that after Hughes said that, the Fuhrer made eye contact with him. But then he looked away again, and Hughes would later tell Roy he'd imagined it.

That conversation had been the start of Roy's dream to become the leader of this country, a dream that he'd only just taken another step towards. A dream of righting his wrongs that Roy had honestly believed he would able to make into reality. A dream that not just him, but so many others had depended on.

That dream would die with him.

The memories dissolved, and Roy was dragged into the void again, knowing nothing more.

* * *

Maes had been to many military funerals in his life, typically as a formality, another necessary part of the career _—_ he'd seen more than his fair share of death. So, he was familiar with it all; the coffin draped over with the Amestris flag carried by six solemn-faced soldiers, the gunshots fired off into the air, the Fuhrer King Bradley himself in attendance. He'd seen it all before, every box checked off to honor a sacrifice made on behalf of their country, and of course no expense had been spared for  _this_ funeral. The demise of the powerful Flame Alchemist. The death of the Hero of Ishval.

But  _nothing_ in Maes' life had prepared him for how thoroughly  _wrecked_ he was now, how completely Roy's death had destroyed him.

The past few days he had been unable to sleep at all, because the dreams he had were so terrible. He saw Roy die again and again each night. Every moment he was plagued by thoughts of what he could've done differently to avoid this nightmare, and the image of Roy's corpse waited behind his eyelids every time he thought to try and shut the reality of it out.

Maes knew he was an emotional person, and he typically found himself tearing up even at the funeral proceedings he'd attended for complete strangers. How ironic that he had yet to shed a single tear at Roy's.

He couldn't. There were no tears left.

Roy's entire team was decked out in black, and all of them looked positively miserable. Lieutenant Hawkeye was crying into Second Lieutenant Breda's shoulder, even as he sniffled himself, and seeing her display emotion so openly was just  _wrong_ . Everything about this was wrong.

Now, Maes just felt  _nothing_ . He had cried over, and over, and over again until it had reached the point where each time he thought about Roy everything sort of faded out and turned cold. He watched, numb to the world, as they lowered his best friend six feet underground. One simple thought repeated in his head, the only thing he could hold onto, the one thing that kept him sane when all he could think otherwise was  _I wasn't there when Roy needed me, I wasn't there to save him, Iwasn'tthere._

_I will find whoever did this to you_ , Maes swore to himself once again, as they began shoveling dirt.  _I will hunt them down if it is the last thing I ever do, and I will kill them where they stand._

He was brought back out of this dark spiral by a small hand tugging on the black coat he wore. Maes looked down to see his daughter staring up at him with wide eyes that had filled with tears of her own. “Why are they burying Uncle Roy?”

Maes inhaled sharply. Just like that, the ice he'd tried so hard to encase his heart in these past few days melted, and his tears returned.

“Elicia?” Gracia asked, her voice wavering too. “We told you before, sweetie, he's—”

“You said he's gone,” Elicia interrupted with a shake of her head. “You said he left forever, but you also said he's in that box, so he's  _right there_ . Why are they putting all that dirt on him? He won't be able to get out!” She tried to push past the people who were slowly filling the grave, but Maes caught her around the waist and held her close even as she kicked and struggled against him.

“ _No_ !” she sobbed, with a significant increase in volume. “Stop it! STOP IT!”

“Shh, shh, Elicia,” Maes said, then cleared his throat when his voice came out choked. “Uncle Roy is going to a better place now.” Even if he didn't believe it himself, he had to be strong for his daughter.

“I don't  _want_ him to go to a better place, I want him to stay with me!” Elicia cried. “He has to stay here! He has to do his job! He has to teach me al...alchemy! He said I had to ask him when I got older, he can't go  _now_ !”

Maes froze, and exchanged a look with Gracia that told him she hadn't known anything about this, either. “He has to teach you what?”

“The science magic!” Elicia said, voice still nearly a shout. “I asked him if he could teach me it and he said it was too dangerous!”

“Well,” Gracia gave her a relieved nod. “He was right about that. Alchemy is  _incredibly_ dangerous, and you shouldn't—”

“He thought you'd say that, too,” Elicia told them, and pointed right at Maes. “Uncle Roy said you'd kill him if he taught me, and he said to ask again in ten years, when I'm all old, but I  _can't_ ask him again if they put him in the dirt! He'll be trapped!”

For a moment, Maes was utterly unsure what to say. He realized that the explanations they'd given Elicia to try and avoid upsetting her wouldn't suffice. She had always been curious, and Maes should've known she wouldn't stop asking questions until she was satisfied with the answers.

All she knew was that Roy was in that coffin, and that by burying him, they were taking him away from her.

He crouched down to her level and turned her around so that he could look into her eyes. “Elicia, honey, do you remember how Uncle Roy was hurt at your birthday party? How he had his leg in that cast?”

She nodded, hesitant.

“Do you remember when he got in a fight before that and I came home really upset because he had to go to the doctor? Do you remember what I told you?”

“You said to mommy you were upset because he hadn't woken up yet,” Elicia said. “But you told me that sometimes when people get hurt, they go to sleep for a while.”

“This is like that,” Maes told her. “But a little different. Uncle Roy got hurt again,  _real_ bad. When mommy and I told you he was gone, we didn't mean that he just left for a while. He was injured and he went to sleep, but it was too late for the doctors to help. He's... he's not going to wake up, Elicia.”

Her eyes went wide. “Not  _ever_ ?”

Maes shook his head. “No. He's not coming back. We have to let him rest, okay? That's why they're... burying him.” God, the words hurt to say. “So he can be at peace, and no one can hurt him again. Do you think you can calm down a bit now? For me?”

Elicia's lip trembled, and her eyes overflowed with tears once more, but she nodded again in agreement. “For Uncle Roy,” she said. “Let's be strong, like him.”

Maes let out a half laugh, half sob, and swept his daughter up in his arms, holding her close. He felt Gracia lay a hand on his shoulder, and he let himself be anchored by the family he hadn't lost yet.

* * *

Edward, for the first time in what felt like  _ages_ , felt nothing but pure, unabashed happiness. He and Al were doing this because  _they_ wanted to do it, not because Colonel Bastard had given them an assignment. And they were finally free of Major Armstrong's two lackeys who apparently had nothing better to do than follow teenagers around all day and make sure they didn't get themselves murdered. They hadn't even really done that right— he may have completely healed from his fight with those goth freaks in the Fifth Laboratory, but that didn't mean the blow to his pride wasn't still sore.

But Ed pushed those thoughts away, for the time being. As annoyed as he was with the Colonel at the present time, he'd promised to look into it, and Roy Mustang was nothing if not a man of his word. 

Still a bastard, though.

Even Edward couldn't help but think positive thoughts at their present situation. Here he was, sitting in a comfortable train car at sunset with his two favorite people in the world— his little brother and Winry —on the way to see a place Winry had always been longing to see. He'd be lying if he said the way her eyes lit up as she gushed about Rush Valley didn't immediately put him in a good mood. And after that, he and Al would go see their teacher, who was certainly intimidating, but Ed missed her. It had been too long since they'd paid Izumi Curtis a visit. She'd been there for the two of them when almost no one else had, and Ed would always be thankful for that.

He took another bite of the apple pie Lieutenant Colonel Hughes' wife had been so kind to pack for all of them, and felt a warmth spread through his chest. Yeah. Despite all the shit they'd been through as of late, life could still be pretty good sometimes.

“Damn, this is some good apple pie,” he announced, earning a glare from Winry.

“Language,” she said. “And don't talk with your mouth full. But yes, Miss Gracia is a really good cook!”

“I knew that already,” Ed grumbled. “She made us quiche, when we stayed at her house before. It was delicious, too.”

“I put it on the list of foods I want to eat when I get my body back,” Al added, his voice bright.

“She taught me how to make it,” Winry said, positively beaming. “So, once you get your body back, Al... I'll make it for you!”

“All right!” Al cheered, and Ed scoffed.

“I better get at least one slice,” he said. “Whether it's Gracia's recipe or no, anything you cook is bound to be terrible. You're a gearhead. Anything that's not metal will be too hard for you to make.”

“Then why would you want any pie?” Winry asked sweetly, and continued at Ed's spluttering. “Mr. Hughes and Mrs. Gracia are both really great people. They were so kind to let me stay with them. And Elicia's such a sweetheart, too. I'll visit them first thing when I'm next in Central.”

“I dunno, Winry.” Edward shoved the remains of his slice of apple pie into his mouth. He'd better tell Al to add this to the list, too. “Hughes is pretty annoying to spend too much time with.”

“He did always come to your hospital room and give you a hard time, huh, brother?” Al asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Ed rolled his eyes. “Seriously. He said he was busy with work, but he always came to visit me.” He trailed off, lost in thought for a moment. “Next time we're there, we ought to thank him somehow.”

“Yeah,” Al agreed. “And for helping us with our research, too. It's nice to know that even if we're not looking into it more right now, someone else is.”

_Shit_ . “Uh, Al—”

“He's helping you with research?” Winry's brow furrowed in confusion. “For what?”

“Well, we can't get into it very much, but—”

“ _Al_ ,” Edward cut him off. “I, um. I meant to tell you before, but Hughes isn't going to be helping us with that, anymore. Since he's so busy, what with work and his family... the Colonel is going to do it instead?” He didn't mean to voice it as a question.

There was a moment of silence, in which Ed  _really_ wished for the millionth time that he could read his brother's expressions.

“ _What_?” Al finally exclaimed. “When did that happen?”

“When he visited us at the hospital, and we talked on the roof,” Edward told him. “His reasoning made a lot of sense, and I know we can trust him. Although, if you ever tell him I said that I will take your left foot and hide it.”

“I'd like to see you try,” Al deadpanned, to which Winry snorted and nearly choked on her own slice of apple pie. “But when were you planning on telling me this?!”

Ed blinked. “Now?”

“Brother!” Al whined. “I wish you'd told me before so I could thank him! He probably thinks I was being so rude.”

_After what_ I  _said, I don't think you'll have to worry about that_ , Ed thought. But instead of pointing that out, he said, “The Colonel wouldn't think  _you_ were being rude if you walked right up to him and punched him in the face. But don't worry about it. We'll just thank him next time we see him, it's no big deal. Avoiding that guy is impossible, anyways.”

“I guess you're right,” Al said reluctantly. “Still, I'd feel better if I'd said something already. He doesn't even live in Central, and even if he's not working just yet it's because he's still recovering. So, it's really very thoughtful of him to offer to do that for us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Edward mumbled. When Al put it like  _that_ , it made him feel like an asshole.

“What'd you say to him brother?” Al asked suddenly, and Ed jumped. “You didn't insult him again, did you?”

Al's perception skills were uncanny, sometimes. How was it fair that Edward didn't even get to see any facial expressions, and Al still got to read him like a book? “Why would you assume that I—?”

“Because you're radiating guilt right now,” Al said. “And you hardly ever feel guilty.”

Edward gaped, and looked at Winry for assistance. She simply shrugged and said, “He's not wrong, you know.”

“I... may have been a little...  _skeptical_ at whether his offer was genuine,” Ed said carefully.

Al buried his head in his hands. “Brother!”

“Oh, come on! The guy's a jerk, Al! He's arrogant, and rude, and even  _more_ annoying than his best friend, and everyone acts like he's some all powerful god— himself included, mind you —when his alchemy's not even that great! It can be rendered useless by something as arbitrary as the weather!” Edward ranted. “So yeah, I found it a bit hard to believe that suddenly he wanted to help us out.”

“He's been helping us since we were kids, brother,” Al said quietly, after a moment. “You know that. He's the only reason we're in the military at all, and have the resources we do now. We probably still wouldn't know anything about the philosopher's stone if it wasn't for him. We owe him a lot.”

Edward crossed his arms, and stared determinedly out the window. Al sighed.

“I know you two get on each other's nerves a lot, but I really wish you'd give the Colonel more credit,” he continued. “He's doing his best. I know he cares about us, and I'm pretty sure you care about him too, even if you're... well,  _horrendous_ at showing it. Would it kill you to be a bit nicer to him?”

_Yes. Yes it would_ . But... he couldn't deny that Al had a point. And he'd never admit it, but just like their teacher, Roy Mustang was one of very few adults Edward found himself able to count on, which meant he was important. Irreplaceable, even. Ed didn't think there was any official in the military he trusted more, as begrudging as that trust was. The Colonel knew their biggest secret, and hand't judged them for it. In fact, he'd set them back on their feet, and lit a fire under them. Edward knew he could never repay that debt. Maybe that's why he was so scared of trying to. 

After all, it was infinitely easier to make the Colonel's life difficult, even when all Mustang had done was make theirs easier.

Damn. Now, Ed  _really_ felt like an asshole.

“Yeah, well... well... we'll just apologize to him when we get back. And thank him,” Edward said. “He's used to us by now, he won't care. As long as he's got some information for us, we can do something to make it up for him in return.” He winked. “Equivalent exchange. Hey, maybe Winry can bake him a pie!”

Expressionless as Al still was, Ed could practically feel the fond exasperation coming from him.

Winry looked a tad nervous, though. “I know the recipe, but I've never actually  _made_ it before,” she reminded them. “I don't know if your  _superior officer_ would be thrilled if you presented him with burnt apple pie as a combination apology and thank you. Maybe just get him a card?”

“Or a set of matches?” Al ventured. When they both stared blankly at him in response, he sunk further in his seat, seeming to try and make himself smaller. “I don't know! I don't know what he  _likes_ !”

The three of them descended into laughter as the train sped onward, taking them farther and farther from a funeral they had no way of knowing was taking place.

* * *

After the funeral proceedings had ended, Maes found himself alone on the hill. Just him and the tombstone that marked where his best friend had been buried.

“Roy Mustang,” he read quietly. “1885 to 1914. Renowned alchemist, trusted colleague, and, above all, beloved friend. He will be forever remembered for his bravery and service to this country.” It felt horribly inadequate. No amount of words would every be enough to describe the ache this loss had caused Maes, and so many others. He didn't think it'd ever go away. He didn't  _want_ the pain to go away, because it would mean that he had forgotten about Roy, and he never wanted to do that. He never wanted to move on.

Maes never wanted to let go.

“Promoted two grades for dying in the line of duty,” Maes mused. He knew it was the custom, but that didn't make it hurt any less. “Major General Mustang, huh? Well, you were right. It does certainly have a ring to it. I know you wanted to move up in the ranks... I don't really like how you did it, though. What good does it do our country if you die before you can even change anything?”

He waited for a moment, as if he expected Roy to answer from beyond the grave.

“What good does it do anyone if you die before you get to the top, like you always said you would?” he asked, his voice strained. “You promised me you wouldn't do anything stupid. You  _promised_ me that you wouldn't die on me. You were supposed to be the best of us, Roy, you were supposed to become Fuhrer. And now you're... you're...” He trailed off, took a deep breath. “What... what the  _hell_ am I supposed to do now? What am I supposed to do without you, you  _ idiot _ ?”

Roy still didn't answer. Of course he didn't.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” a quiet voice said, and he turned to see Lieutenant Hawkeye approaching him. She seemed to have regained her composure after the funeral, and her face was now blank and impassive as ever. Her expression flickered for just a moment as she glanced at the grave, then she looked back to him, waiting.

“You know, as spectacular as his alchemy was, I never envied it,” Maes told her. “All that power didn't seem worth it to me, not with how the military forced him to use it. As horrible as our time in Ishval was for me, I can't even imagine what it must've been like for him. I never once in my life wished that I could do alchemy.” He paused. “Until now.”

Hawkeye blinked, clearly surprised, but let him continue.

“I'm a terrible person, aren't I?” Maes asked, running a hand through his neatly slicked back hair. “I think that if I could do alchemy, I would've tried human transmutation already. I know it's taboo. I know there's next to no chance it would work. I know it would cost me something; a limb or two, or even my life. I think I understand the Elrics a bit better now... the lengths they were willing to go to bring back their mother. Except that they were just children, and unlike them I  _know_ that trying it would go horribly wrong. But I don't think I care. I just want Roy back.” He shook his head. “I'm horrible. I told Elicia we should just let him rest, but I'm... I'm wracking my brain here, for any way to bring him back to life.”

“You're not the only one,” Hawkeye said softly. “I think I already would've tried it, too. Are... are you all right?”

Maes glanced at her. “Are  _you_ ? I know you cared about Roy just as much as I did. Do.”

“...No, I don't think I am. I'm a coward,” she replied simply, and Maes turned to look at her in surprise. “I joined the military for him. There's nothing else here for me. I... I swore to myself that if he were to die, I'd kill myself as well.”

Maes' eyes went wide. “You—?”

She nodded. “But I'm a coward. I haven't been able to make myself do it. In fact, I don't know if I'll be able to at all. At least, not until I find whoever did this and make them pay.”

At least that last sentiment was something he could relate to. Actually... that gave Maes a thought. “It's not what Roy would want,” he said. “You know that. He'd want you to keep living. Not just for revenge, either, but I know how you feel there. In fact, I... well. I don't know if this is what he would want, either, but... I had an idea.”

She just waited again, in that odd silent way of hers, her eyes asking a question.

“I want to find the people that did this, too,” Maes began, his voice rising with the anger that boiled just under the surface, just below the overwhelming sorrow. “I want to find them, and I... I want to tear them apart. I want to make them pay, make them  _suffer_ . Believe me when I say that I will not  _rest_ until they have answered for what they've done with their lives, or worse.”

Hawkeye blinked. “I must confess, I'm surprised. I don't think I've ever seen you angry before, Lieutenant Colonel.”

“I've never been more furious in my entire life, and I don't think it'll go away until we've avenged Roy,” Maes said. “But that's not all. I'm not him. I'm nothing like him, and I can't... I can't  _do_ this like him. I can't dedicate myself completely to my work. I can't become Fuhrer. I have a family that's much more important to me than the good of this country ever will be, as horrible as that sounds, and I don't have his ambition. But I promise you this— if you follow me, for the time being, we  _will_ find out who did this, and we will take them  _down._ And then, after that's done, I think I'll follow you.” 

She remained confused for a moment, and then her eyes widened as understanding passed over her face. “You can't possibly mean—”

“I do,” Maes nodded. “You should become Fuhrer, in his stead. You can bring the changes Amestris needs,  _you_ can do good for this country. You have what it takes; you can do it so much better than I could, and someone has to pick up where he left off, or it's all been for nothing. It's... it's what Roy would've wanted. Not for you to die with him, but... to keep doing what he started.”

She stared at Maes for a moment, and then her so carefully dry eyes welled up with tears. “I'll do it,” she whispered. “Of course I will. You're right, we can't let everything he's done have been in vain. And... and until then, of course I'll follow you. We all will. We'll avenge him, or die trying.”

They shook hands. Her eyes dropped to the wreath of white flowers that he held in his other.

“Ah, this?” He held it up. “Hyacinths. According to Elicia, they're Roy's favorite flower. She insisted we read up on the meanings, and get some for today. The white ones are for final hopes and prayers. I thought... it seemed appropriate.” He lay the wreath on Roy's grave, but Hawkeye didn't take her eyes off of it.

“He's sent me hyacinths before,” she said finally. “I wasn't kidding when I told Elicia he sent me flowers from time to time. He always loved ridiculous gestures like that. You... you said the white mean hopes and prayers?”

Maes swallowed, but it did nothing to get rid of the lump in his throat. “They can be for loveliness, too. Actually... white hyacinths are most commonly used at weddings.”

The tears spilled over her cheeks and ran down her face. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Weddings,” she echoed, voice hoarse. Then, “I loved him too, you know. I may not have been as obvious about it as he was, but I did. We both agreed we couldn't act on it, since then of course I wouldn't be allowed to work for him. Now he's gone, and I can't stop myself from thinking... we wasted  _so_ much time.”

“I know you did,” Maes told her softly, putting what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder. “He loved you, too, of course he did. I always knew it.”

She wiped her eyes. “You never answered me when I asked if you were all right,” she said, and Maes let her change the subject. “I know you loved him, too. In a different way, of course, but that doesn't mean it hurts for you any less. You've known him almost as long as I have, and you  _know_ he cared about you just as much.”

“I'm fine,” Maes lied. He eyed the cloudless sky above them. It seemed unfair, that the world should look so beautiful when everything had gone so horribly wrong. “It's just that... it's a terrible day for such sunny weather, don't you think? I wish it would rain.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oops?
> 
> This is the Major Reason for me writing the AU, and I'm aware it's been done before, probably more times than I've even seen, but I couldn't help myself. My love for hurting Roy and for NOT hurting Hughes sort of just combined into this idea, and I had to contribute to the Roy Dies Instead of Hughes concept. Keep in mind that to my knowledge, no one has done exactly what I'm doing/have planned with it. My goal is essentially to keep it as close to the actual show as possible, just with this one very important change, which changes A LOT, obviously, since Roy isn't around for any of the important stuff he does, and Hughes is around past episode ten. The Maes Hughes Lives tag is one of my favorites on this website, but switching him and Roy in that respect is my favorite take on it.
> 
> One example that I adore is the Reverse Dad AU by maeshughesofficial on tumblr (https://maeshughesofficial.tumblr.com/post/156741003255/such-blessed-au-bonus-bc-i-hate-myself), which switches Hughes and Roy's personalities/roles in the series, so in that Hughes is an alchemist and Roy is a doting father (of the Elrics no less), and therefore Roy is the one to die. I recommend you go check it out! Alchemist!Hughes is something I didn't know I needed until I saw it.
> 
> Okay! Enough rambling. Believe me, this AU is far from over, but. Yeah. This work essentially gives you the main idea. Hughes lives to see all the crazy stuff that happens in the rest of the show, and Roy... well. I'm sorry, again. I totally get it if this is too sad and intense for you to keep reading.
> 
> I really hope you'll stick around, though! Because like I said, this series is far from over, and I have a lot of ideas for it, so I hope this doesn't make you too mad at me. I think you'll like some of the stuff I have planned. Please comment and let me know what you thought!


End file.
